


A Valentine for Bucky Barnes

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avenger Bucky Barnes, Avengers Tower, Bucky Barnes Flirts, Bucky Barnes Fluff, Crushes, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, POV Second Person, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Your plan is simple: leave a card and chocolates at the Winter Soldier's door, then retreat back down to your level of Avengers Tower, leaving him none the wiser as to the identity of his secret admirer.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 36
Kudos: 326





	A Valentine for Bucky Barnes

The greeting card aisle is even more colorful and gaudy than usual, a blur of pink and red and glittery flowers and hearts. You stand there clutching one card that’s a bit more subdued than the rest, a rich dark crimson that simply says,  _ ‘Be mine, Valentine.’ _

You put the card back, hesitate for a moment, then snatch it up again. It can’t hurt, right? You aren’t planning to tell him that it’s from you, anyway. He’s seemed even more stoic and gloomy than usual lately. You don’t know if it’s because they’ve pulled him from missions, or because nearly everyone except for Steve Rogers seems uneasy in his presence, but you miss his smile.

You’ve seen Bucky Barnes genuinely smile a handful of times since you started working in the Avengers Tower; his laugh is a thing of beauty.

It’s probably the main source of the massive, unrequited crush you have on him.

But maybe - just maybe - getting a little Valentine’s pick-me-up will add some brightness to his day. If the card doesn’t help, then you figure chocolate probably will, so you pick up a box of that, too - a heart-shaped box, tied up in ribbon. You aren’t going for subtlety.

You’ve wasted most of your lunch break dithering around in the convenience store, so you have to hurry back to the Tower before you’re late, not that anyone would probably notice or care if you were. The fact that you’re a nameless nobody to most of the important people in the Tower doesn’t particularly bother you; it’s kind of nice to be able to just come and go as you please, without worrying that the Earth might be in danger if you’re late to a briefing or something. Being an actual Avenger has to be stressful. 

_ Desk jobs are best jobs, _ you think.

Bucky Barnes has an office only a few floors above yours. Everyone calls it an office, at least, though it’s really more of a place for him to retreat when he wants to read and watch movies and try to catch up on all of the years of normal living that he missed during his stint as the Winter Soldier. You hop on the elevator and give his hall a reconaissance walkthrough, checking to see if the lights seem to be on in his hideaway. 

They aren’t.

He must be off getting lunch or training with Steve Rogers, you decide, and you hope that you don’t look too terribly suspicious when you turn and head down the hallway again, pausing for a moment to leave the box of chocolates and the card carefully propped against his door.

The door opens.

You freeze, the card still in your hands, and slowly look up from his sneakers. He’s frowning.  _ Wonderful, _ you tell yourself, your face burning.  _ Just wonderful. _

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, standing upright and clutching the card and the chocolates to your chest. “I didn’t think you were here.”

He looks you over, and his expression relaxes a bit. “I’m here,” he replies, shrugging slightly.

“Yeah, I see that.” You figure there’s no escaping; he’s caught you, and if you try to pretend that you’ve shown up at the wrong door, you’ll only look more foolish. “I… I got this for you. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I didn’t know if you had any plans, but I thought maybe you’d like chocolate?”

Your voice is squeakier than you’d intended for it to be, and you feel the urge to turn and flee. 

Bucky plucks the card from your hands and carefully slices the envelope open with a knife that he seems to produce out of nowhere. He takes out the card and reads it, and the corner of his lip twitches. “You need a valentine, huh?”

“I was hoping to be more of a secret admirer, to tell you the truth.”

He laughs, and your heart soars. “You work a few floors down, right?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve seen you around.”

“That’s right.” You can’t believe he recognizes you. Is he just being polite? His eyes are bright and happy, though, so at least your mission was something of a success. “You have a really nice smile,” you tell him. “Just so you know.”

“Thanks, doll.”

_ He called me ‘doll,’ _ you think.  _ Okay, don’t swoon. Play it cool. _

“I guess I wouldn’t be a very good secret agent, would I?” you ask him, a wry smile on your lips. “I really thought I was being sneaky. This is kind of embarrassing.”

“You’d be terrible,” he agrees. “I could hear you pacing down the hall.”

“Ah.”

“Glad I caught you, though.”

You look up and meet his eyes. Having a crush is a painful thing; every second he spends watching you feels like a breathless eternity. “Yeah?” you whisper, wishing you could think of something more clever to say. 

“Yeah. I haven’t had a valentine since 1943.” He holds up the card. “So, I guess you could say my schedule’s pretty clear.”

“Oh.” 

“It’s Friday,” he says.

“Yep, it sure is.”

His lip twitches again. You can’t tell if he’s frustrated, or if he’s trying to hold back a laugh at your expense. “Do you have dinner plans, valentine?”

_ Oh. _

“Nope.” Truth be told, you  _ were _ planning to hide in your apartment and try to ignore the mortifying fact that you’d left a secret valentine on the Winter Soldier’s doorstep, but those plans have gone completely asunder. “Probably just going to eat in. I mean, unless you want…” Your voice is doing that thing again, going all shrill and squeaky. “If you wanted to get something. For dinner, I mean. If you wanted to maybe get something for dinner, I’d be down.”

_ Play it cool.  _

“I’d be down,” he says, and from the amusement in his voice as he says it, you wonder if maybe that wasn’t an expression back in his day. “Where are you taking me?”

You’re certain now that he’s finding your predicament entertaining. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, every bit as casual and confident as you  _ wish  _ you were. You bite your lip, and you notice when  _ he _ notices it, which only serves to fluster you more. 

“Everything fancy’s probably booked up,” you tell him. “People make reservations so far in advance, and especially right here in the middle of the city…”

“Luckily for us, I’ve got connections.”

“Oh.” You laugh, mentally slapping yourself. “I kind of didn’t think about that.”

“I’ll swing by your desk at six?” 

“That’s… That would be great,” you tell him. “I’ll be there.”

He doesn’t close the door in your face; he seems content to watch you, and you hesitate for another second before you turn and power-walk back to the elevator, suddenly distracted by the realization that you’re going on a date with a superhero tonight, straight from work, and you aren’t exactly dressed for it.

You’re a jittery, nervous wreck for the rest of the day. Maybe you fell asleep at your desk and daydreamed the entire thing, but on the off chance that you didn’t, you really need to figure out how you’re going to make it through this dinner date without making a fool of yourself. You don’t have time to go home and change, but you’re wearing a burgundy sweater, at least, which is kind of fitting for Valentine’s Day. 

Bucky saunters up to your desk ten minutes early with a bouquet of red roses in his hands, paying absolutely no attention to the other lonely hearts who are stuck working late on the most romantic Friday of the year. “Ready?” he asks. “The man upstairs got us a table at a place close by.”

“Yes,” you reply, standing up so suddenly that you nearly flip over your chair.  _ Tony Stark _ called to get you a dinner reservation. Maybe you’re still dreaming. “Absolutely.”

You wiggle into your coat and take the proffered bouquet, ready to swoon all over again when you notice that the tag on the flowers has your name on it, which means he actually went to the effort of finding it out, since you’d been too nervous to tell him earlier. 

If you’re really asleep and drooling on your desk, then you’re honestly okay with it, because this would be the best dream your brain’s managed to come up with in ages.

“I hope you’re okay with something that isn’t too swanky,” he tells you as you step out of the elevator, and you’re relieved to see that he looks a little less confident and cocky now, too. “I’ve been trying to keep a low profile, ever since… everything. I don’t get out much, and crowds—”

“Hey, I’m excited to be going out at all, and I’m not dressed up for anything fancy. I’m just really relieved you seem relatively happy about my pitiful attempts to be a secret admirer.”

“Are you nuts? Why wouldn’t I be happy about it? You’re kind of a knockout.”

_ I am? _

You decide to change the subject. “It’s crazy to think that you haven’t had a valentine since the nineteen-forties.”

“Tell me about it.”

Maybe that isn’t a great subject, either. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t sweat it.” He smiles slightly as he glances down at you. “I know I’m an old man.”

“I guess I like older men,” you reply, and your eyes widen as you realize you  _ actually _ had the nerve to say that out loud. The only way to recover is to be even more ridiculous, so you quickly add, “You’re definitely at the top of my centenarian list.”

He laughs. “Glad to hear it. I’m sure the competition is tough.”

“Incredibly tough. Is that why you got the roses, to bribe me?”

“Are roses not the  _ thing, _ these days?”

“They’re a thing. I just wasn’t expecting them. They’re beautiful, though. I’ve never gotten any before, so this is kind of a milestone occasion for me.”

“Never? You’re pulling my leg.”

Bucky Barnes is much better at flirting than you ever could’ve anticipated… or maybe he just genuinely thinks you’re that pretty. Either way, he’s making your stomach flutter. “Never,” you tell him. “Well, I got a bouquet of weeds from one of my friends in elementary school once, if that counts.”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” he says, and then he steers you into another tall building and offers you his arm as you make your way around to the back, where you find yourself confronted with a very plain, out-of-place door. Bucky winks and raps on the door. “Speakeasy.”

A tiny window opens, and Bucky whispers some kind of password to the man behind the door, who solemnly nods and opens it, quickly ushering you inside. He’s clearly very in-character, and you smile, some of your nerves lessening as you step into the darkened room and cheerful, jazzy music washes over you.

“Interesting choice. I can’t say that I’ve ever been to a speakeasy before.”

“I think Tony thought he was being funny, sending me here, but it seemed like a good time. And this is more of a restaurant, from what he said, but if there’s anywhere else you’d rather go—”

“No, this is awesome,” you tell him. “Thanks, Bucky.”

He regales you with accounts of his favorite modern TV shows over dinner, and you make a few recommendations. It seems like he’s intentionally steering clear of anything from his time with HYDRA and the years leading up to it, and you don’t ask too many questions; you imagine a lot of those memories are painful. 

You find yourself relaxing more and more, and it seems like Bucky is, too; you’ve probably seen more smiles from him tonight than in the entire year you’ve worked in the Tower, and they’ve all been aimed at you. You’re already on Cloud Nine when he stands up and offers you his hand.

“How about it, dollface?”

Your calm flees the second you realize he’s angling to get you to the dance floor. “What?”

“May I have this dance? I promise I won’t step on your toes.”

Those eyes are irresistible. You stand up and take his hand. “What if I step on  _ your _ toes?” you mumble. “Because that’s pretty likely.”

“I think I’ll live.”

The Winter Soldier, deadly and fearsome and always so stern, might as well be a goofy teenager once he gets you out on the dance floor. His moves are exaggerated and enthusiastic, and you get the feeling that he’s acting ridiculous just to make you feel less self-conscious.

Your crush is dangerously close to becoming something much more significant than a crush.

You stay as long as you reasonably can before you start to feel guilty about all of the people who are probably waiting for a spot to open up, and when you head back outside, you’re pondering just how badly you want the night to continue when Bucky offers to escort you home.

“Really?” you ask. “It’s kind of far…”

“Even more reason for me to come along,” he says, “unless you’d rather me call you a cab, which I’d also be happy to do. It’s late, it’s cold, and you’ve probably danced your feet off.”

_ Super-soldier,  _ you remember suddenly.  _ I bet he isn’t tired at all. _

“Okay, okay, if you’re so determined to be my knight in shining arm-er—”

_ “Clever,”  _ he says, and he takes your hand in his, the metal of his cybernetic arm catching the glint of the streetlight. You’d only stopped dancing a little while ago, and you’d already missed holding his hand. That’s probably a bad sign, you decide. It’s just one date.

“We should do this again,” Bucky says when you reach your doorstep, “if you want, of course.” He hesitates. “I have no idea if you want someone to go steady with, and I’m a mess, but—”

“I’d like to do it again,” you quickly interrupt. “I’d really, really like to do it again.”

He smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘night, Bucky.” You give him a quick peck on the cheek before you can lose your nerve, and then you dart inside and shut the door, dying over the fact that you’re pretty sure you just made Bucky Barnes blush.

**Author's Note:**

> <3<3<3 Lots of love and a Happy Early Valentine's Day, everyone!!


End file.
